Pure
by BigBoss3
Summary: The floating ruin of Sevastopol had become a violent playground. Safety, an illusion; survival, seemingly impossible. Christia could hope for nothing more than a painless death, but the sleek, strong invader didn't know anything but pain.
1. Chapter 1

_Alien: Isolation has me obsessed with xenomorphs and robots and deep space horror, and this is completely necessary. The alien is absolutely terrifying and mesmerizing, stalking around the space station like a damn king. _

_I do not own Ridley Scott's Alien, or the video game! _

* * *

Christia walked though the nearly pitch-dark dining hall, each footstep thoroughly planned and purposefully placed.

_One_ misstep, _one_ sound and she'd be known. Known to the berserk synthetics, known to the looters.

Known to_ it. _

She shivered, her trembling hand hovering over the flashlight attached to her belt. The urge to flick it on was nearly impossible to ignore, but it simply _wasn't _the time to adopt a child-like fear of the dark. At the very least, it helped her stay unnoticed.

The skylights did offer some illumination; enough to see the horrid things crudely painted on the corridors, and the sporadic smears of blood on the floor. Christia spotted an unopened bottle of water sitting on a nearby table. She grabbed it and took a small sip before pulling the cap tight and tossing it into her backpack.

Food and water were now rare, precious luxuries. Christia had seen people _kill_ over half-eaten canisters of cereal and warm soda.

Less than a week ago, Sevastopol was safe. Sure, there'd been rumors; whispers of the most horrifying and absurd nature_, _completely unbelievable. Instead of indulging in the growing hysteria, she focused on her studies and stayed close to her parents. Then people began to disappear.

_In less than a week, Sevastopol had fallen. _

Christia was now alone, in a sense. Her mother and father had left their family unit six days ago, intent on rescuing a band of survivors that had contacted them, apparently trapped somewhere in the Lorenz Systech Spire and surrounded by malfunctioning androids.

They hadn't returned, and probably never would.

She would have been happy to hide in her closet-sized bedroom and cry until someone came to help, but they'd been low on food even before things fell apart; staying put wasn't an option. After a thorough search of her father's things, Christia had at least been able to venture out with a gun, as well as a lanyard full of key cards that could be useful.

Unfortunately, there was simply no preparing for what Sevastopol had become. Christia had spent the better part of the last 72 hours hiding in lockers and vents and under beds, dashing for cover at the slightest disturbance. She'd been shot at and nearly mugged more than once; she'd seen what people were capable of during a devastating loss of law and order.

But she couldn't, _wouldn't _allow herself to believe what she'd heard from others aboard Sevastopol, before man had turned against man.

_A creature of unequaled strength and stealth, killing indifferently. Undefeatable._

Christia couldn't spend any more time or reflection on it, had to stick to what she knew for certain and could see with her own eyes, not that she hadn't heard something massive moving through the ceiling back at the transit station.

But it didn't matter. Who knew how long it would take for the company to send help; would there be anyone left by then? Could she hope for rescue, knowing that she was anything _but_ essential personnel?

By rights, Christia shouldn't have survived as long as she had. Nineteen years old, short and slight, the daughter of an engineer and a nurse; no military training, no access to half of the terminals on Sevastopol. She had yet to even apply for flight training. Even if she were to come across survivors who hadn't been stripped of their humanity, Christia had nothing to offer in return for protection. Aside from her gun and the key cards, she was just another mouth to feed.

At least she could move around quietly enough. Her petite build favored her.

Finally, she reached the far entrance of the dining hall and crouched next to the door. The motion sensor beeped twice. Christia felt her stomach knot.

_Locked, and none of the keycards would work. _

Which meant she would have to double back, through long corridors and dangerously empty spaces that were hard enough to traverse once.

Christia sunk down to the floor, facing the sacked cafeteria with a critical eye, debating the pros and cons of settling down for the night. Small rooms were certainly more preferably and much safer, but there were plenty of tables and collapsed machinery to hide behind; the food stores were probably dry, but it wouldn't hurt to check.

Only one of the two doors were accessible, and the stairway's shutters could only be opened from the inside with a maintenance jack.

Even_ she_ could guard a single entrance. It would be safe, for the time being.

Christia slipped off her backpack and removed her jacket, then zipped her nylon suit down a bit. Nearly half of Sevastopol was without proper air filtration, conditioning and heat. As a result, each breath she took was stale and uncomfortably warm.

She stood up, hand resting on her father's leather holster, and headed towards the unlocked entrance. Christia wasn't strong, but she'd do her best to barricade the fortress gates.


	2. Chapter 2

Christia couldn't sleep.

After nearly an hour of pushing and pulling wreckage in front of the entrance, she'd felt it secure enough to allow herself some rest and curled beneath a small fort of boxes and blankets. It wasn't sturdy, but anyone who managed to get into the cafeteria wouldn't be able to find her.

_Hopefully. _

She _had _felt invulnerable, but once under the blankets and reaching for sleep, Sevastopol had begun to sound like a living thing; Groaning and creaking and shuddering. Christia couldn't tell which direction the noises came, or how far off they were, and certainly didn't want to imagine the cause.

Even worse than the distant pandemonium was the uncertainty. What would her next move be? Double-back to the transit station and try to find her parents?

Solomon's Habitation Tower belonged to nefarious survivors and synthetics, but what waited in the ruins of the Systech Spire?

Christia turned on her flashlight; the glow soothed her. Waste of batteries...

Just before Sevastopol's main comms had malfunctioned, mere _hours _before the lockdown, her father had told her of the station's imminent decommission. They were to leave for home in two weeks.

_Earth. Green grass and natural air, daylight_.

Ten years in the speckled void of deep space was far too long. She wouldn't miss it one bit.

_Flashlight off, flashlight on, off..._

"I'm going to die here," She whispered to herself solemnly.

* * *

Christia's eye's shot open as voices echoed just outside the fortified door.

"There isn't going to be anything left, man!" A man half-shouted. She put a hand over her mouth and fumbled for the gun.

"It doesn't matter. Either way, we have to go through here to get to the Marshall Bureau," A second voice quickly retorted.

"What do you expect to find there, exactly? Someone who knows what's going on? Someone who can kill that _thing?"_

_Oh, God._

A noise, metal against metal. They were chipping away at the barrier.

"Shut the fuck up and help me, Woods."

"I say we take the transit to the the synthetic warehouse and figure out a way to call off those fuckers. They're beating people to death, man. When things fell apart, we had nine people in our group, Fitz. _Nine. _We're down to four now, and who knows if Alvarez and Stone will be alive by the time we get back?" More clanks and thumps. "Remember how much it took just to put a _single _Joe down? We shouldn't waste time here."

"Could be guns in there, Woods."

"That _thing_ could be anywhere."

Christia's heartbeat rose with every word spoken between the men. She was trapped, and if they didn't quiet down, everything they had to fear on Sevastopol would come right down on their heads.

_And what she had believed mere fantasy and hysteria was now looking to be true._

Conversation stopped, and the two men continued to move aside the debris. Christia wiped at her damp forehead and sat up on her haunches, slipping on her backpack once more and briskly tying back her long, dark hair.

She took a deep breath and lifted the edge of her blanket fort; they were barely twenty feet from her, nearly through the doorway; very little stood in their way now. The tallest of the two stood rigid and alert, a gun at the ready, while the other pushed a stack of hastily-packed suitcase to the side. Neither looked familiar, but it was very dark...

The distraught one, Woods, was right. There was no food left except for the can of pears and damp bag of bittersweet chocolate chips in her backpack.

Given the chance, they'd probably take everything she had. They'd probably hurt her.

"Fitz, what if there are people in here? Someone had to have blocked this off," Woods half-whispered, looking over his shoulder anxiously.

"Wasn't anything on the tracker, okay? If you're worried, check it again. We can step over the rest of this junk..." Fitz muttered. Christia watched as he climbed over what was left of her blockade.

_How could she have been so naive as to think it would stop anyone who wanted in? _

"Can we get some power in here, you think?"

Woods hesitated a moment before hopping over the metal and wires, gun held out with a frigid arm. "I don't know man, looks like things really went down in here. Serious damage. Shit, it's hot!"

The two moved further into the cafeteria, bickering quietly, as Christia listened uneasily from her small acropolis; they walked past her without incident.

She didn't know whether to keep herself hidden until they realized there was no way into the Marshall Bureau and left, or to simply sneak out from where they came in. The transit station wasn't far, and she had already spent days gathering supplies and preparing to go after her parents. Solomon's Habitation Tower was an empty, dangerous shell. There was nothing for her there.

_Ping. _

"Fitz! Fitz, there's something in here with us!" Woods hissed.

_The motion tracker._

"Where?"

"Over there, by the debris!"

"Give me that fucking thing," Fitz whispered. Christia kept as still as she could, sweat dripping from her chin, vision blurring with tears.

"Why are you fucking with me, Woods?"

"What are you talking about, man?"

"There's nothing there," Fitz said angrily, "So how about you stop with the jokes and find a terminal."

Christia let out a relieved sigh, her hand relaxing every so slightly around the old revolver.

_Ping._

The room fell deadly silent.

"See? I told you!" Woods seethed.

"Dummy up and go check it out."

Christia was ready to run.

"Why me, man? Why not you?"

"You're the one with the gun, asshole. Check it out."

_Now_.

The small girl dashed out from the fort, flashlight on and the barrel of her gun aimed at Fitz and Woods. The beam disoriented the pair for only a moment, and then Woods was aiming at her.

"What the fu-"

"Stay _back! _I-I'm warning you!" Christia rasped, the light moving around the men wildly as her hands trembled.

"Shouldn't play with guns, babe," Woods snorted, blue eyes wild and shining. He took a step towards her.

_She was in trouble. _

"Another step and I'll shoot you, I swear it!"

"Woods, put the gun down, she's just scared-"

"Hey, she pulled a gun on _us, _Fitz," He countered hotly. "Put down the gun and whatever else you got and maybe we'll let you off easy; how's that sound, sweet thing?"

"I don't think so."

"You don't even want to mess with us. I've tried being nice, now put the _fucking_ gun down!" The blue-eyed Woods bellowed, anger twisting his pale face. He looked like an _animal. _

Fitz grabbed his ally from the back. "Keep it down!" He spat, "And put...the gun...do-"

A sound, a roar, completely _inhuman, _interrupted him.

Christia stared at the men, a whimper rising in her throat, and they stared back at her with a fear she knew mirrored her own.

Slowly, they lowered their guns. Fitz held up a hand, a sign of peace.

_"Hide."_


	3. Chapter 3

"Hide? Hide f-from _what_?" The girl croaked as Fitz hurried over to the unblocked entrance and began rebuilding the wall of rubble as quietly as he could. Christia turned to see Woods moving frantically about the perimeter of the cafeteria.

"There's gotta be a pantry or cabinet or something..." He murmured. "Fitz, grab the girl and get your asses out of sight! Forget about that shit!"

"Stop talking and help me, it won't bother coming in here if it at least _looks _cut off," Fitz explained. "Turn that flashlight off, girl." Christia looked at him, doe-eyed.

"No way man, you know that thing isn't stupid. It can probably smell us, _fuck!_"

Fitz didn't reply. The two men busied themselves about their own tasks as Christia stood frozen and useless, unblinking and fraught with terror.

"You hear that? It's in the fucking vents, oh _Christ..._" Woods moaned, ducking behind a small counter that jutted out beside the shuttered staircase.

_Yes, Christia could here it. _

Something massive, hitting against steel with echoing, irregular thumps. It was getting louder, _closer; _the cafeteria had plenty of access tunnels...

She turned off the flashlight and turned to Fitz, hoping for further instruction. He stuck a metal chair against the flimsy partition and ran a hand through his unruly hair.

A howl reverberated above them; Christia opened her mouth to scream, but Fitz bounded towards her and gathered her in his arms, clamping a hand over her lips. She stiffened, wondering if he would snap her neck just for insurance.

"Get back under those blankets of yours," He whispered carefully in her ear, "Don't make a sound, don't even breathe." He let go of her and stepped back, waiting for an indication that she understood. Christia nodded and lifted the plain cotton, slipping underneath. She heard Fitz's sneakers moving farther away, squeaking against the floor, then silence.

_The cafeteria was a tomb. A disheveled, soundless grave. _

Chills crept up the base of her spine. Whatever was in the vents hadn't moved, keeping as still as them.

_Waiting as they did._

She wished that Fitz had joined her in the fort; she was _afraid. _Had he found somewhere to hide?

Slowly, she lifted the blanket between quivering fingers and peeked through.

_No fitz. Nothing. _

Christia moved forward a bit, the blanket resting on her back, and looked all around the room.

Relief and _reality_ hit her; it was all just make-believe. The product of cabin fever and hysteria, and she'd fallen for it. It was just looters messing with them, and the vents...of course, the metal would be shifting and contracting without proper climate control.

_Looters, nothing more. _

She inched forward, nearly out in the open, and went to stand.

Then something growled, and a tail like nothing she had ever seen before slid from a ceiling vent above the entrance, the end of it hitting the floor with a monstrous thud.

"Oh..._God..." _

She scurried back underneath, eyes fixed on the obsidian appendage as it curled into the air gracefully, the length of it lined with hard ridges. _Immense_. The blanket fell back into place, taking away her ability to see anything.

Christia buried her face in her hands, stifling her labored breath.

The creature huffed, and the entire cafeteria gave a gentle quake as it landed on the floor.

_"...You know that thing isn't stupid." _

If he was right, they were done for.

Without warning, it began to walk around the cafeteria, each monstrous footfall sending Christia into a panic. It was moving on two legs, upright...and periodically sniffing the air.

_What did it look like? _

Confident that it was on the far side of the room, Christia parted the blanket barely an inch.

And as she stared at the massive invader of Sevastopol, it seemingly stared back.

Christia forgot the danger. She forgot what Fitz had told her, and ignored the cry of self-preservation sounding off like a klaxon in the back of her mind.

It's tall, stygian body appeared almost mechanical, sculpted. Humanoid, yet completely without the soft matter that made her own species.

_Looking right at her, looking without eyes, elongated head bowed and metallic teeth bared. _

Christia lifted the blanket a bit more, feeling bold in what she imagined were her last moments alive. Shrieking, it took a heavy stride towards her, and another, it's body dipping down to her level.

_Closer_, until it's hot breath stirred the walls of her fort and brushed against her damp cheeks.

Death was a hairbreadth away and then the hammer of a gun was cocked from behind the counter.

Like a true predator, the creature became more interested in a new hunt than the certain kill; Christia breathlessly watched as it ran towards the sound.

Without hesitation, she crawled out into the open and dashed to the entrance on her toes, refusing to look back. As she climbed over the debris with hopeless abandon, Woods screamed something incoherent and pulled the trigger twice. Christia became frantic and lost her footing, small body falling over the side of the wall and crashing into a mess of wires.

The creature's battlecry mingled with Woods's final wail behind her. Bruised and shaking, Christia untangled herself and bounded down the corridor.

The transit station was close.


	4. Chapter 4

Christia's scuffed All Stars were anything but quiet against the leaden floors of Sevastopol, but she refused to slow down.

_Elevator, hard right, luggage processing. Down the staircase, then left. Elevator, hard right, Luggage processing..._

Her chest burned, struggling to draw breath as she sprinted full-speed through the curved, desolate corridor; and as the elevator came into view, it's worn metal doors open and ready to embrace her, so did the silhouette of a synthetic.

Christia nearly flew forward as her rubber soles caught the ground and ended her momentum.

It was nearly fifty feet away, back to her, directly in front of the elevator. A sentinel.

She held up the revolver and inched back around the bend, testing the floor carefully with each backward step. Debris everywhere, if she were to blow her cover...

"You always know a Working Joe," The machine gurgled in the pseudo-human voice she'd grown to hate.

_Back, further, carefully... _

Then her left foot caught the shoelace of the other; Christia fell on her back, the impact knocking the gun from her hands. She whimpered, scrambling for her weapon and pressing up against the wall.

_Footsteps_.

The synthetic droned, "Something amiss here?"

She _couldn't_ use the gun. That _creature_ would come barreling towards her in a matter of seconds, and she'd have nowhere to run.

Christia stood up gingerly, pain shooting through her agonized muscles, and steeled herself. It rounded the corner, pausing when it's red eyes found her. The girl raised her gun, expression fierce behind strands of drenched, curly hair.

"You really shouldn't be here," The synthetic intoned almost menacingly, but made no move towards her. "Come with me, please."

"Stay the _fuck_ back! I'm ordering you to stand down. N-now!" Christia ordered, voice shaking.

"You really shouldn't be here," It repeated, starting for her; she cocked the gun and began to fall back.

"I'm ordering you to _stop!" _

"Let me help you." The robot lunged, his all-too-powerful hand catching the collar of her suit and hoisting her into the air effortlessly. Completely mad with fear, Christia went to strike it's rubber face with the gun. It grabbed her fist midway.

"You're becoming hysterical," It thrummed insistently, giving her wrist a painful throttle; the revolver fell to the floor.

"No! Let me _go!_ _Stop!" _She cried, legs kicking madly in the air. The synthetic's cool, lifeless fingers wrapped around her slender neck and squeezed.

"Now, now..."

Christia was quickly losing the ability to fight back. A haze filled the corridor, the synthetic's ridiculous face blurred. Every hope of breath gone.

Her auroral green eyes closed, and she thought of the creature.

_Magnificent. What a shame..._

Abruptly, the synthetic let her go; Christia fell to the floor, landing on her ankle horribly wrong. The pain was all that kept her conscious. Coughing violently, she looked up and saw a disheveled Fitz beating her attacker with a wrench, bringing the tool down on it's head again and again. White fluid sprayed from the torn rubber, and sparks erupted dramatically as it's neck snapped, exposing coiled tubes and wires. One final blow, one final twitch; the Joe collapsed to the ground, oddly contorted and stiff. Eyes dark.

Christia rubbed her throat, still coughing, and stood up slowly. Her left ankle nearly gave out, but she steadied herself, staring down at the destroyed machine, still afraid.

"It's gone." Christia looked at Fitz, his amber eyes bright and piqued. He nodded assuringly. "It's dead."

"Thank you, I-"

"You can thank me later..." Fitz raised his eyebrows.

"Christia Way," She replied quietly, reaching for the gun. Fitz grabbed her arm.

"Well, Christia, I need to know that you're not going to pull that thing on me again," He whispered, tone serious and stoney.

The girl looked up at Fitz, trying very hard to trust him.

_She wouldn't be able to survive alone. She needed help._

"I won't. But you can't blame me for being cautious." Fitz gave her a sad smile and released her arm. Christia picked up the revolver.

"We need to get out of here. I think it's gone for now but-"

"What about Woods?" Fitz looked at her a moment, running a hand through his hair.

"That _thing_ killed him. Pulled him into the vents."

Christia chuckled nervously, tears welling up, and headed towards the elevator, stepping over the mechanical corpse. Fitz followed.

"There's a motel on the third level. My group is waiting for me there, we can take the elevator." Christia slowed.

"No, I have to get to transit," She softly insisted, stepping into the elevator.

"Why?"

"My parents are in the Systech Spire, I...have to find them. Maybe you could help me."

"Be practical. You don't have to pretend like you know what you're doing and you can't just-"

"I've been alone for days, _alright_? I know what I'm doing, and I refuse to stay in this tower. That..._creature_..." She trailed off, her anger fading into cool sadness. Fitz sighed.

"I'll take you to the transit station, but I won't go to the Spire. My group's been good to me. I can't abandon them like that."

_Strange, that her parent had left her so easily, yet this man refused to part with people he probably hadn't given any thought before the chaos. _

Christia nodded, rubbing her teary eyes.

"Okay, to the transit station then."

Fitz pressed the button and she couldn't help but smile.

A little bit of help could go a long way. She _was_ going to find them.

The elevator lurched, then began it's descent, and Christia's smile faltered.

_What if it followed?_


	5. Chapter 5

The elevator came to a tremulous stop and the doors yawned open.

"Give me the gun," Fits urged, peeking out into the hazy space with narrowed eyes. Christia moved away from him.

"Why?"

"Because I think we can assume I'm a better shot," He muttered, hand out. Falteringly, she gave him the revolver. "Loaded?"

"Yes," She responded bitterly, rubbing her marred neck.

"Just...stay behind me, okay? There could be people here, or worse," Fitz whispered, motioning for her to follow him.

_Did he really think her utterly incapable? _

But she kept silent, for the sake of their lives, and followed him out into luggage processing.

Christia had been there less than a day ago, and it'd looked bad then. But now, it was worse, and a situation that seemingly _couldn't_ get any worse had broken the gauge.

Through the sheet of fog that had settled a foot above the ground, she could see the silhouettes of bodies. There were _dozens_; blood was everywhere, splattered on the ground and suitcases and Seegson posters almost deliberately. Christia moved closer to Fitz instinctively. He kept his repose, though she knew that he was thinking the exact same thing as she.

_It had been here. _

"Don't look around, just keep moving," He breathed, gun held out like a crucifix.

But she couldn't ignore the bodies, or the smell of early decay or the heavy feeling of tension and danger that grew stronger with every step.

Fitz stopped at the top of the stairs. Twenty steps was all that stood between Christia and the transit cars.

"Why are we-"

"I hear something down there," He whispered. "Stay here, I'll go down and call the car."

"Why? I'm the one taking it."

"I'd rather be the one to outrun whatever may come around when the car gets here. You know how loud it is."

Doubt established itself, and distrust.

"Do you realize how that sounds?"

"I've given you no reason to be suspicious of me. I wasn't going to allow Woods to rob you, and I didn't let that synthetic crush your neck, now..." He wavered a moment, eyes darting all about the staircase, "Stay put, keep an eye on the elevator and I'll signal you when the car's here." Christia bit her lip, conflicted.

_No time to argue. _

"Be careful," The girl replied softly, and looked at Fitz. _Really_ looked. "What's your real name? I mean, your full name?" For a small moment, his face beamed, and he looked as though the last ten days hadn't even come to pass.

"Albert Fitzpatrick." He put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't look so somber, you'll be with your parents soon."

His words filled her with inexplicable dread.

Christia watched him start down the stairs and wished that she could follow. The fog swallowed him near the bottom, and then he was gone. She looked over to the elevator nervously, looked at the synthetic ads flecked with blood, read the bold, bright words. _You always know a Working Joe. _Again and again, refusing to glimpse at the sea of corpses.

The grinds and beeps of the transit sounded off like an angelic choir, singing hope into existence.

Excited, Christia went down just a few steps, hands wrapped around the straps of her backpack, and waited, until minutes had passed.

Her sweat turned cold, sending gooseflesh up and down her limbs.

_Something was wrong. _

The girl descended slowly, struggling to see much of anything. The red hazard lights of the Systech Spire car speared through the haze, rotating like the beacon of a lighthouse.

She reached the bottom, her body low to the ground, and made her way to the right. She stopped behind a kiosk and peeked around it; the car was there, the doors open. Fitz was inside, crouching behind a row of seats and holding the gun up in a cop-like fashion.

_And he looked terrified. _

Just as she was about to get his attention, he spotted her and shook his head slowly, eyes round and intense. Christia recoiled a bit, and mouthed "_why". _

Fitz put a hand up, warning her to stay, and pointed to the left. The girl covered her mouth and edged around the kiosk just enough to see the obsidian creature, kneeling over the ravaged body of a synthetic, the crimson lights passing over it like the glow of fire.

Christia leaned back, her body threatening to stone up and cease to work.

_Bowing it's elongated head, the harsh details of it's jaw shimmering with salivation, studying the ill-fated Joe quietly. _

Swallowing hard, she pressed herself flush against the kiosk and tried to gather herself, but she was flooded with quick, dismal ideations.

_Fitz was going to take the car and leave her; her fate was to end up in the belly of the most hostile being imaginable. Who would have thought that mankind wasn't on the top of the food chain? That there was something out there more perfect and dangerous than humans could ever hope to be? _

Her green, teary eyes flitted over to the man she'd given her only weapon to as he held up a carton of cigarettes and pretended to throw it. He looked at her questioningly.

It took Christia a moment to realize what Fitz planned to do, and she didn't like it. A distraction so insubstantial would only piss it off and give away their presence.

She shook her head frantically, curls clinging to her sticky cheeks, silently pleading him to rethink his strategy.

From across the cloudy room, the creature made a curious sound, much like a purr; the both of them glanced around their respective barriers.

Christia watched in mute astonishment as it tugged on the synthetic's signature orange jumpsuit with a massive, clawed hand, almost..._examining_ it.

It crouched further down, mouth open as it sniffed the robot's ever-vacant face; flinching, cocking it's head..._confused. _It's kill wasn't made of flesh and bone.

She saw Fitz move from the corner of her eye and snapped back from her reverie. It was the second time that she'd lost herself in curiosity, in _wonderment _for something that would kill her without pause, given the chance.

_No. She didn't know that for sure. Back in the cafeteria..._

Fitz waved the carton for her attention.

_"Ready?" _His lips motioned. Christia took in a steadying breath and nodded, inclining herself towards the open car.

She had no choice.

Fitz threw the carton to the left of the creature; the cigarettes landed with a soft thud a few feet from where it crouched.

Screeching vehemently, it rose up on muscled, agile legs, tail writhing in the air like a serpent, the disturbed fog swirling about it's towering form. As it took a single step towards the decoy, Christia crept towards the car, gaze darting between Fitz and the creature anxiously.

One step, another..._slowly_. Fitz leaned out of the car, reaching out for her. Christia's eyes shot to the creature, it's stance rigid and alert as it investigated the carton, oblivious to the escape.

She reached out and grabbed Fitz's hand, allowing him to pull her inside.

Despite their vulnerability, Christia couldn't help but embrace him.

_She was so frightened. _

Fritz pulled her away and gave her an nod, understandably hasty. He pointed to her, then the door, telling her to keep watch; cautiously, he walked further into the car settled in front of the console, waiting for her go-ahead.

Trembling horribly, Christia looked out into the station.

_And she then understood that it had known from the beginning. _

Looking right at her, the ridges of it's tail grating along the floor like a threat.

"Close the door _now!_" She cried.

The car shook, and the gates began to shut as the creature bolted towards her.

_It was faultless._

The gates closed and locked. Christia fell to the ground, unconscious.


	6. Chapter 6

_"There you go...come on, open your eyes..."_

Christia's lashes fluttered open, then shut quickly. It was so _bright_...

"Am I dead?" She croaked, shielding her vision with a small hand. Someone chuckled above her.

"No, you're very much alive. We're in the Spire, in transit."

_Fitz. Thank God. _

Moaning, she lifted her head from the chair she'd been placed in and stared at him, relieved but equally bewildered.

"What h-happened? Why are you here?"

"You blacked out just before the car pulled away. That thing missed us by a hair, especially _you_," He explained, running a hand through his curly hair as he so often did. "And I suppose...I had no choice but to leave with you."

"I'm sorry," Christia replied earnestly, pulling herself up from the hard cushions. "I shouldn't have asked you for help. Now you're separated from your group."

Fitz stood up, stretching his arms above him.

"That's true. But we'll find each other, I'm sure." Christia simply nodded, sensing a little venom in his words. "You should let me take a look at that ankle."

"It's fine," She grumbled, attempting to stand, but fell back on the hard cushions, left foot unwilling to support the weight. "God_dammit!" _

Fitz knelt down in front of her, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You're very pretty when angry and spitefully determined. Pull up your pant leg." Blushing fiercely, Christia bent down and rolled up the stuffy material, revealing her swollen ankle.

"Do you know what you're doing?" She asked warily.

"I'm a medical doctor, Christia. Research, mostly. I rarely, if ever, leave the Scimed Tower. Probably why we've never met." Fitz felt around her ankle, each bit of pressure sending sparks of pain through the tender muscles.

"How did you end up with someone like Woods?"

"Once the hospital began to fill, every qualified physician was put on active duty, myself included. Near the end, Woods came pounding on the doors, screaming about an injured friend who needed help. The other doctor's and I had secured all but one entrance, plenty of food and supplies, but I left with Woods, down to the lobby where he'd left his friend. When we got there, he was already dead, surrounded by synthetics. They nearly killed us, too." He paused, reaching into one of the many pockets stitched into his white jumpsuit, and produced a paisley bandana; gently, he wrapped it around her ankle. "We fought them off together and tried to get back to the hospital, but they'd sealed the doors after spotting that thing nearby and refused to let us in. After that, we stuck together out of simple necessity. He was an asshole, no denying that, and not too bright, but he'd saved my life many times. Anyways, we joined with other _amiable_ survivors that we stumbled upon. Most of them are dead now." He knotted up the rag and patted her knee.

"Just a sprain. It'll heal up, just favor your right. Seems that you were doing fine on your own before we crossed paths. Sorry to have doubted you." Christia tucked back her hair, embarrassed.

"Luck. It would've run out eventually. I...didn't really believe what people had been saying, that there was _something _on the station. If I'd known, I never would have left our unit."

"What do you do here, Christia?"

The question caught her off guard. She didn't want to answer.

"Do you have my backpack?" She asked in a hushed voice. Fitz nodded and reached beneath the seat. He pulled out the bag and sat it in her lap, watching closely as she unzipped it and took out the bottle of water, offering it to him.

"Thank you," He smiled and took the bottle, "But given our circumstances, I don't think you should be deflecting questions." He uncapped the water and took an ample sip, waiting.

"I don't do anything here. I _was _going to apply for flight training; wanted to be an officer on a star freighter. Then I heard about the decommissioning, and then all this happened."

"Your father is Alex Way, isn't he? Works with the synthetics?" Christia grinned.

"You know him?"

"We've met a few times. He's a good man. Does he...have any ideas as to why the Working Joe's are malfunctioning? Killing people?"

"Only that he suspected it had to do with a ship that docked here days before," She explained. "Nothing more."

Fitz handed over the water and stood, his expression wistful.

"I wish we could rest here longer, but we better keep moving. The server rooms are in this part of the station, and APPOLO's core. A lot of synthetics around. Did your parent's tell you exactly where they were heading?"

"Seegson Comms, I think." Christia stood up slowly, slinging the backpack over her shoulder.

"We'll need to find an elevator then." Fitz started for the car exit. She grabbed his arm, stopping him.

"You don't think...it could find a way here, do you?"

"I don't know, but I will tell you this; less than three days after the group in the hospital locked us out, we went back and found the main entrance wide open. Everyone inside had been slaughtered. Somehow, that thing had managed to cut the power to the whole floor and disengaged the emergency lockdown." Fitz drew a sleeve over his damp forehead. "We have no idea what we're dealing with here."

Christia stared at him a moment, hand falling from his arm.

"You're not alone, Christia," He said lightly, flashing his teeth, and took her hand. "Let's go."


	7. Chapter 7

_Smaller chapter, experimenting a little with this, so let me know what you think!_

_Also, yeah. I know the game is not it's own universe, but we're not all gamers and I don't want to spoil AI for anyone. I'm not that daft. _

* * *

_Something was missing. Things weren't right and he had to kill._

That was all he knew. That was all he could hold true.

Would the secrets of his existence reveal themselves over time? And by what standards could he measure time, when his life had barely begun?

Life was a curious concept, as well. He'd been...born. He'd torn his way through a cage of bone and sinew. Frightened at first, but instinctually adverse to the beings that had stared with disgust as he entered the world.

He fled, escaping through an opening in the wall.

His surroundings were strange; angular and cold and bright. Surrounded by small, metal walls, he grew. It was was painful, and that pain fueled the anger that gnawed at him since his first breath.

_And he killed. He hunted everything that moved, and reveled in his brutal power. _

But his thirst was insatiable, and something was _missing. _A mentor, a superior. He couldn't fulfill a deeply-rooted need to serve, to be part of something much bigger than himself.

As he grew and fed and turned his strange surroundings into a dark, vacant expanse, a phantom string began to tug on his mind. A call, a _command_, from something very close; something like him.

_Very close, tucked in the bowels of his prison. _

He took to memorizing the seemingly infinite passageways, and studied the soft, delicate creatures that had once thought themselves keepers of the steel maze; moreover, their peculiar, mechanical counterparts. He learned how things worked, and used their weapons and safety nets against them.

Exploring the tunnels, listening to everything, even their language, in hopes of finding what lie on the other end of the string; but he could understand only bits and pieces of their speech, words he could only identify with fear and panic, and _still_ so many areas to search.

_So few left to hunt._

Then there was the odd, green-eyed one. A female, he supposed.

So _small_, smaller and seemingly weaker than the rest. But she'd stood her ground with so little fear, hadn't faltered despite his attempts to crack her mask of mettle.

He held onto those moments, revisiting them over and over again, each time finding new meaning or none at all.

She was different, perhaps intelligent. She could perhaps...help him.

He would follow her, and tear answers from her if need be.


	8. Chapter 8

The Lorenz Systech Spire, though alarmingly quiet, had sustained considerably less damage than Christia's home tower.

It made sense. Even before she'd learned of Sevastopol's imminent decommission, the staff had begun to wane away, and Working Joe's were given responsibilities meant for humans, with the power to _reason__. _The creature wasn't interested in silicon and circuitry, and he quickly learned where to find the proper quarry.

_The sheep had flocked to Solomon's Habitation Tower, locked the doors and forgot about the thousands of feet of ventilation right above their heads. _

"Shouldn't be daydreaming."

Christia looked up to Fitz; he tossed a few chocolate chips in his mouth. "I need you to stay sharp, for both our sakes."

The Spire may have been spared from the devastation, but nearly all the doors were locked, and the elevators were without power. After hours of coming to dead-ends and meticulous backtracking, Christia's ankle had gone from an annoying ache to a crippling, constant throb. As much as she tried to cover it, Fitz knew and decided to let her rest in a small office.

The water was almost gone; as tempting as the pears were, they both settled for the chocolate.

"If we can get into those vents near reception, we may be able to find an emergency access ladder up to Comms Control. I'll need to rewire the lobby and who knows if there's enough power to open the vents-"

"I don't know if I'll be _able _to climb a ladder. There has to be another way. I've lived here for ten years and still manage to get lost." Fitz sighed, sitting down on a small cabinet.

"Remember passing by Security?"

"Yes."

"I could unlock most of the doors from there, maybe even power up the elevators." Christia went to say something, then frowned.

"There were Joe's in there," She whispered, and her chest tightened with a sob. "God, we're so _fucked. _I'm so _tired." _The girl slumped against the wall. "They're probably dead."

"We'll find them," Fitz said gently, sitting beside her on the cool floor, "And we're going to figure out happened, and where that thing came from. Christia, I'll need you to help me."

"What do you mean?"

"I need to gain access to External Communications and call for help, but I think APPOLO has taken measures to cut Sevastopol off. Back in Scimed, Woods and I heard synthetic's droning on about a biohazard warning. We're being quarantined," He explained, his voice hushed and steady. "If we can't get help, then we figure out a way to recall the Joe's, and we trap that _fucker_ somewhere on the station."

"What do you need me to do?"

His intense, amber eyes grew dark; Fitz averted her sad, saccharine stare. "I need you to keep going, if...something _has_ happened to them, to not give up."

"I-I don't want to die here," She whimpered, and when he put an arm around her tenderly, there was nothing left to hold back her tears.

She cried into his shoulder, and he said nothing more, instead combing his fingers through her hair, gently rocking her back and forth.

And she slept deeply, for the first time in days.

* * *

_No air, no air, she couldn't breathe. At long last, the frigid grasp of space had her, and it would never let go..._

Christia's body jumped to life, struggling against whatever subdued her, and a voice begged her to be quiet _but she couldn't breathe. _

She looked around frantically; pitch black.

_What happened to the lights?_

"It's me, stay still! It's alright!" Fitz whispered frantically, lips pressed against her ear; his sweaty palm slipped from her mouth. "We're in trouble." He shoved the backpack into her arms. "We have to get out of here _now_."

"What-"

_"Unidentified species." _

A synthetic was close, just down the hall.

_"What are you?" _

Fitz grabbed her hand through the dark and lifted her up.

"It's here. Fitz, it's _here!" _

"We need to get to reception-"

"I'm not going out there, we have to _hide!" _She urged, inching over to a locker that faced the door, being careful not to open it by accident. "In this! Just...wait for it to pass!"

"If it finds us, we'll have nowhere to run, Christia!"

The hunter's deafening footsteps silenced them both. Christia slowly opened the locker and slipped inside, leaving the backpack on the floor; Fitz wordlessly followed, squeezing himself in beside her. If it'd been the slightest bit smaller, they wouldn't have fit.

Fitz closed the flimsy door, eliminating the last bit of room; every inch of their bodies touched. Christia felt the cool steel of the revolver pressing into her hip; his heartbeat pounded in her ear and became her own and then intermingled with the heavy strides closing in on their small haven.

The entrance to the room opened, triggered by motion. Christia held her breath, fingers digging into Fitz's arms.

_Death had never been so close, so cruel in it's petty tortures and taunts. She'd never been so terrified. _

It entered the room languidly, hissing softly all the while, tail dragging along the floor. Fitz tensed in her hands as it stormed past the locker, then doubled back, then stopped. She couldn't even _begin_ to imagine what it was doing.

Snarling, it ran from the room and jumped into a vent; Christia exhaled as it rambled through the passageway, far away from them.

"Jesus..._Jesus..." _Fitz sighed, trembling slightly. He pushed open the door and stepped out; the girl followed, limping out into the room. "Let's move before it comes back."

Christia nodded, taking the flashlight off her belt and flicking it on. She looked around the room, dazed.

"It...took my bag," She murmured. "Why did it take my bag?"


	9. Chapter 9

_Thank you all for the reviews, favs and follows! More to come soon, but I can't answer all of your questions without spoiling things!_

* * *

_Of course, he'd known that she was hiding from him._

Killing her, or the _male_ that shadowed her, wouldn't have been smart, though the urge to do so had been unimaginably severe.

Now, curled beneath a collapsed staircase with the green-eyed one's pouch of sorts tucked in his ams, he felt that impulse again. It was her smell, clinging to the stitched material. Her fear was there, traces of it, and it was _enchanting_.

Tentatively, he pulled at the brassy metal charm that hung from the top of the pouch; the material parted. He reached in, purring with satisfaction, then shuddered as a claw snagged on something solid.

He took out the object; a strange, cylindrical container. Something sloshed around inside when he gave it a shake.

_The soft, little creatures were more bizarre than he'd thought._

Feeling impatient, he dug a claw into the top and pulled back the thin metal. Syrupy liquid spilled out, the aroma horribly sweet.

_A poison of some sort? _

He held out the can and dumped it's contents before him; odd, mushy chunks splattered across the floor. Feeling bold, he picked one up between two fingers and sniffed it carefully, hissing in revulsion.

_But something about it was tempting, and interesting. Anything for a clue..._

Hesitantly, he brought the chunk to his massive jaws and took a bite. It was sugary, pulpy. Nothing like meat, but oddly pleasing.

_It was what the female ate._

He rose up on all fours and began to eat the chunks off the floor, and when they were gone, sucked up all the juice he could.

* * *

Christia had only been in Sevastopol's vents once, as a child. She'd managed to get herself hopelessly lost and half of Seegson's staff had spent nearly ten hours searching for her.

_It had left a scar, albeit small, but a scar nonetheless, just waiting to drip anew. _

Fitz had led them safely past the Working Joe's who'd clustered together near the Systech lobby; luckily, too fixated on finding the 'unidentified species' to notice them slink by. Christia kept watch while he routed power to the vents and elevators, but someone had initiated a biohazard lockdown on the whole level. The doors couldn't be unlocked.

_It didn't explain why half the lights had gone out, including those in the vents. _

They were forced to clamber through the claustrophobic passages in pitch darkness, not willing to risk the flashlight.

"We're more than halfway there," Fitz whispered. She couldn't see him, and though he was barely two feet in front of her, Christia began to panic. Whimpering, she quickened her pace and bumped into Fitz.

"We need to go faster, I-I have to get _out_ of here!"

"Christia, it's alright, we're almost there-"

"He's going to find us in here and he's going to _kill_ us! _Please!" _She cried, shoving him forward. _"Can't fucking breathe..." _Fitz turned his body around to face her and grabbed the collar of her suit, pulling her close; Christia wrestled against his hold.

"It's _me_, it's Fitz! Everything's okay, I'm _here_! Turn on your flashlight, you'll see...everything's alright," He soothed, a hand on her cheek.

She leaned against the wall of the vent, hands fumbling for the light. "I can't c-calm down, I can't _breathe!" _Christia gasped, yanking the flashlight from her belt violently. It sprang to life, disorienting her a moment. Breathing raggedly, she looked at Fitz; his wide eyes caught the orange glow, shimmering bright and filled with concern. Full lips parted, friendly, familiar. He smiled gallantly, and she felt the panic ebb away.

"I'm so sorry, I just-"

"Let's just keep moving, okay? Thirty feet and we're out." Christia bit her lip and nodded, turning off the flashlight.

They crawled on; Fitz told her to wait as they reached the exit, the steel hatch grinding open like a vortex. Murky light flooded the vent, but she couldn't see much.

He slipped out soundlessly, then motioned for her to follow. She was more than happy to oblige, pushing herself out hastily and joining him in the open corridor.

"This way," He whispered, taking her hand.

The elevator was just around the corner, doors closed and control pad twinkling green. Fitz called it down to their level, and they waited nervously as cables whirred and metal vibrated.

_Ding_.

"We're okay, we're good," He mumbled, clearly relieved. "How's your ankle?" Christia pushed back her knotted hair, eyes down.

_It was unbearable. _

"Fine," She whispered, looking up as the elevator gates opened, "For...now..." Her words died out.

_No. God, no please..._

A mournful cry rose in her throat, but came out a sigh, and she fell to her knees, staring into the elevator, staring at the lifeless body of her father.


	10. Chapter 10

Fitz did what he could for Alex Way.

A short, silent funeral. Attended by two. A bloodied tarp, his death shroud; a cramped space beneath a Seegson advert bench, his coffin.

Christia's cheeks were dry the entire time, gentle eyes staring into the empty, hot corridors of Sevastopol thoughtlessly. For that, Fitz was grateful. Grateful for her strength and resolve, and grateful that she hadn't noticed him staring.

How couldn't he? Alex Way, though only an acquaintance, had never mentioned Christia, and he understood why.

_Christia was the most beautiful thing on Sevastopol. He shuddered to think of what might've happened to her if they had never crossed paths._

* * *

They'd left quickly, using the elevator. He'd tried everything to sway her from such a decision.

_"Christia, we don't know where that elevator stopped last, where it came from."_

_"It was that thing, wasn't it? That fucking...abomination-"_

_"No, it was synthetics," He's retorted quietly, but with a firmness she couldn't deny. "Your father was...beaten. That thing, from what I've seen, i-it claws and tears, and for all we know, an entire legion of Joe's could be waiting for us in Comms."_

She believed her mother to be waiting there as well, and wasn't going to acknowledge the possibility of finding her in the same state as Alex. That was something he _couldn't_ tell the girl who was holding on by mere threads, even if it meant risking a rescue that was likely too late to come.

Fitz shifted his focus away from the rumble of the elevator, and impending doom.

"Water?" He asked quietly, looking over at Christia.

_Beautiful, indeed._

She reached down to the single, salvaged bottle at her feet, leaning her left side against the steamy wall: the movement denoted pain. "Take the rest," She whispered, handing over the bottle that held less than a good sip, and gave a smile which she must have thought to be encouraging. Fitz could only smile back, appreciative of such a gesture, but unwilling to accept.

"You know, I'm...actually not that thirsty. Go ahead, finish it up. We'll find more after-"

"No, I'll just save it. Who knows how long my mother's been without water, right?" Fitz sighed.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Christia?"

_If he could just tend the seed of doubt that was beginning to crack open and grow inside of her, make her understand that nothing was worth more than her life._

_But it only gave way to anger._

"Listen, you do not need to do this. We should have gone our separate ways some time ago, Fitz. I've only caused you trouble," She said coldly, limping over to the elevator controls. The floor gave a jolt, then stopped. "You can get off right here." Fitz couldn't tame his laughter and her cheeks went aflame.

"Remember what I said? You're too pretty when angry, I simply can't take you seriously," He paused and stepped closer, "Nor can I give in to your rash demands. If we're to find her, we've got to do it now. That ankle needs rest." He reset the elevator back on course and crossed his arms. "Besides, we may have a chance of getting in touch with someone up there, I can't rationally give that up."

"What...will we do if it-"

"You hide," Fitz whispered, tone more serious than ever, "You don't give a single thought to anything else, not even me. You just hide." Christia stared up at him, frightened and speechless. "There is something bigger going on here, something wicked. That thing didn't come aboard by accident. No matter what happens, you must live through this, and you _must_ figure it."

The elevator gave a jolt, and they were heading up once more.

"I'll sweep the area as quick as I can, but I want you to look for a terminal and find out whatever you can, and you do it _before _you go searching for your mother." He held out the revolver. "You put a bullet through anything that moves." She took it, shaking her head, damp curls bouncing wildly.

"But-"

"No, Christia!" He grabbed her shoulders, eyes clouded. "I won't step out of these doors unless you promise!"

"I promise! I promise..." She choked out, and he pulled her into a crushing embrace.

Then the elevator stopped, and Fitz tried ignore the malignant voice of fear whispering obscenities in the back his mind, mocking.

_Reminding him that no matter what he did, Christia was in more danger than she could understand._


End file.
